Hooked
by nicky69
Summary: A little slice of life smarm. No Blair or Jim owwies; I promise; AN: Betaed by the lovely, syrenslure. Any mistakes that you find are my own.


**This story was originally written for the Sentinel Thursday community on LJ. The Prompt was # 217 Drugs**

HOOKED

Jim Ellison was dead on his feet. He was 18 torturous hours into the day from hell and all he planned on doing when he got home was falling into bed and losing himself in the oblivion of sleep.

This late at night, the streets of Cascade were blessedly quiet and Jim made good time on his journey home. He even managed to find a parking spot right out front of his building, instead of one further down the block, as was becoming increasingly frequent these days. It saved him the extra strain of dragging his tired ass even a few additional feet. For once, he took the elevator.

This late at night, Jim had expected to find the loft in darkness; however, when he quietly pushed open the door; he was greeted by the soft glow cast by the TV screen. Blair had been out sick from both Rainier and the PD for the past four days, struck down by the pernicious flu bug that was sweeping the city. Most of Major Crimes had been hit hard, with about half of the detectives and support staff out sick, hence Jim's lengthy shift. The worst of it seemed to be over with now and Jim was looking forward to having a long lie in on the morrow. After all, it was his day off. He was also looking forward to spending more time with his Guide; he'd missed him, though he'd never admit that to Sandburg.

His Guide - his brilliant, courageous, energetic, partner - would be insufferably smug and excited if he ever learned that little bit of information. Jim most definitely did not want to deal with a Blair who was even more hyper than usual. It was much too daunting a prospect.

His Guide, who was currently camped out of their sofa, and not snuggled up in bed as Jim had expected him to be. "Sandburg, isn't it a bit past your bedtime?" Jim couldn't help himself; he was so relieved that his Guide was returning to good health that he felt the need to tease him, even in this minor way. "What, where you waiting up for me to read you a story? Cause I gotta tell you buddy, I'm wiped. Oh, and I thought I told you already, no TV after 10 pm, chief; too much of that stuff will rot your brain."

All he got in response was a distracted, "Hey, Jim."

Ensconced on the sofa, wrapped snugly in what appeared to be the comforter from his bed, Blair didn't look away from the TV when Jim entered. His attention was focused wholly on the drama unfolding before him. A bowl of popcorn lay half finished at his side, and a glass of juice sat untouched on the coffee table.

In the dim light from the set, he looked incredibly young, his recent illness having cast a pall of fragility over his normally strong features. Jim decided to cut him some slack over the, no food on the sofa rule. Plus, he was just too damn tired to even pretend to be angry with Blair.

"Hey!" Blair's indignant voice drew Jim's attention back to his face. The ads were now on and Blair had finally registered Jim's gentle teasing.

"I'll have you know that I'm studying here."

Jim's eyebrows rose fractionally, his expressing showing his disbelief. "Sure chief, studying. Pull the other one."

"I'll have you know Jim that this type of show is a rich source of information for an anthropologist. They act as showcases for the values held by the majority of the dominant ethnic and cultural group in any given region. They act as a mirror, giving us insights into the mores and morals of specific societies, while allowing us to avoid direct interaction with the subjects of our research.

For the first time in days, Blair's eyes were bright with something other than fever or pain and Jim felt his own weariness ebb a little in the face of his friends renewed vigour.

He moved over to the sofa, dropping down into its welcoming embrace only after Blair had moved his legs to allow him to settle on the far end. Instinctively, Jim drew Blair's legs back up, settling his feet in his lap, mindful, as always, of his Guides comfort and security. The bowl of popcorn sat between them.

"Admit it Sandburg, the only reason you watch this crap is that you get off on watching all the beautiful, half naked women."

Blair declined to answer, but threw Jim his most innocent, 'who me?' expression. It didn't fool Jim for a second.

"So, how long you been watching this stuff, Chief?" Jim asked.

"A few hours," came Blair's cheery reply.

"Want to fill me in then?"

Jim's hand sought out the popcorn bowl as Blair launched into and in depth review of the story so far. When Blair was finished, Jim sat trying to get things clear in his head; it was a lot to take in.

"So let me get this straight. Alfonse the heart surgeon is having an affair with his patient, Taylor, the fashion designer, who is married to Chase. Chase in the mean time is having an illicit romance with Roger the pool boy. Unknown to any of them, Taylor's long lost twin brother, Tom, who was thought to have drowned when they were 6 years old is stalking them and planning his revenge."

"Yep."

"So where's Tom been the last 20 years?" Jim asked.

"Ah, now, Jim that's where things get really interesting, see…"

And he's off, Jim thought fondly to himself. He leaned back into the sofa, and allowed the comforting tones of his Guide's voice to wash over him - a soothing balm that relaxed and calmed him.

XOXOXOXO

Two hours later, Jim's hand snaked out to find the popcorn bowl empty and his Guide struggling to stay awake.

"What do you say we call it a night, Chief?"

"Aw, Jim just one more episode, please? I gotta see if the cops manage to track down Tom before he blows up the hospital and then kidnaps Taylor in the confusion afterwards."

"It's really late chief, can't you catch up tomorrow? We could TiVo it if you want and watch it in the morning."

In the weak light thrown off by the TV, Blair cast pleading eyes in his Sentinel's direction. Seeing Jim's steadfast determination to go to bed, he resorted to playing his ace in the hole, his get out of jail free card, his patented puppy dog expression.

Jim's resistance crumbled.

"Whoa, put away the big guns there, Chief, you win, okay. But just one more episode and them it's off to bed."

Jim chuckled, he couldn't help it, Blair was just too cute when he did that thing with his eyes. It kinda reminded Jim of Steven when they were kids. He had never been able to resist him either.

Blair gave a little clap in excitement as the show returned from the commercial break, and turned shining eyes once more to the screen. Jim rumbled good naturedly about him being addicted to soap. He hadn't meant for Blair to hear him, but as usual Sandburg surprised him.

"Hey man, what can I say? It's like a drug…I can't get enough of it."

Jim didn't answer him. Instead, he headed into the kitchen area retrieved a beer for himself and some more juice for Blair. Another bowl of popcorn followed shortly and with a sigh of mock discontent he settled down beside his Guide, revelling in the unexpected pleasure to be found in this most absurd past time.

Against his better judgment and best intentions, he was hooked.


End file.
